The Rescue
by lbindner
Summary: Sequel to 'The Reunion:' After helping Luke build a funeral pyre on Endor, Tank's return to the Imperial Fleet doesn't quite go as planned. He finds himself needing help when thrown into a detention cell, and it's Luke Skywalker to the rescue! That's when all hell breaks loose.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All hail the one who owns them all (not me)

Dedication: For the guest reviewer of my story _The Reunion_ who wanted _more_. You made me start to think about a sequel when writing one had never been my intention. This story is for you, whoever you are. Thanks for the virtual shove.

The Rescue

Sequel to 'The Reunion'

By Linda Bindner

A/N: Thanks to yeahsureyoubetcha and saram for some very excellent betas. You both rock!

Prologue

"You did _what?!_ "

Tank, known to the Empire only as trooper number TK326, couldn't help but jump in his seat. He'd never considered that returning to the Imperial Fleet would lead to anger such as this.

When the captain of the Star Destroyer _Perpetrator_ had requested an audience with him upon his arrival to his new assignment, Tank had been excited that he would so quickly be able to tell his story. This was what he and Luke had discussed, after all. But Tank soon realized this meeting had more to do with Skywalker than with himself or their shared experience. Now Captain Wilton sounded absolutely livid as his face turned a frightening shade of puce, and Tank had no idea what he'd done. This burst of anger was coming dangerously close to rivaling Lord Vader's famous temper.

But Tank was adamant about telling his story. "Luke didn't even try to kill me, and it was plain that he sure could have. So I thought it would be a-"

"You _thought?"_ The man's face twisted in outrage. "Skywalker is an enemy of the Empire, and you just let _let him go_? Now, he's free to come after every last one of us!"

Tank gulped at the captain's enmity, but protested, "Luke isn't like that. Sure, he destroyed the first Death Star, but-"

Captain Wilton slammed his hand on the desk between them, making Tank give another involuntary jump. "It took years of work to make that space station. It was the Empire's most precious weapon, and he destroyed it in a matter of minutes!"

Not wanting to be intimidated into holding his tongue, Tank chose to repeat what his childhood friend had said only hours before. "He pointed out that the Rebel Base was being targeted, and-"

"I simply can't believe that you let a _Rebel_ say anything at all! They have just decimated our entire fleet, to say nothing of blowing up yet another space station!" The voice became hard as durasteel. "Skywalker destroyed everything: the Emperor, Lord Vader, his friends killed every last person on the second Death Star, and yetyou defend him?" Wilton leaned in close. " _Have you lost your mind?_ "

Not completely surprised that an Imperial Officer would choose to defend the mandates of the Empire, Tank still irrationally felt that the captain's last statement was a little over the top. "The Empire murdered his aunt and uncle!" he protested, angry himself now. "How can we-?"

"Of course he would say that!" Wilton scorned. "No trooper under my command will-"

"I knew his uncle," Tank interrupted, determined to be heard. "He would never do anything to-"

"That is beside the point!" Captain Wilton's voice lowered to a frightening hiss. "You had Skywalker in your grasp, and you let your history with him influence your decisions. Since your training as a stormtrooper is too valuable to completely waste, I will forego the death penalty, but for this dereliction of duty, you will be incarcerated on board this Star Destroyer for an indeterminate amount of time."

His pronouncement echoed in the room with sickening finality. Tank felt his arms yanked roughly behind his back by the two faceless stormtroopers who had witnessed this humiliating scene. He was beginning to appreciate how Luke saw Imperial troopers as 'the faceless enemy; the uniform's white frowning helmet had never seemed so menacing.

Without the benefit of a hearing, or even a full debriefing, Tank found himself hauled out of Wilton's office and tossed into a sterile holding cell on what he thought was level fifteen.

Half in shock at how fast his life had gone haywire, Tank gazed around him. Perfectly smooth walls met his eyes. He already knew those walls were as seamless as they appeared, having helped to construct dozens of cells while part of the Imperial Fleet. Sheets of smooth durasteel made up the walls, the ceiling, the floors… it was a hopeless sea of polished metal. A complex locking mechanism on the door turned the tiny room into a very effective jail cell. The anonymity of the cell was a deterrent in and of itself. Meant to depress and demoralize prisoners, the cell was utterly cold and boring and dark, just one among thousands that made up Detention Block 2A49.

Tank felt a relentless horror build inside him. Captain Wilton had said his incarceration was for an indefinite amount of time. But he was an Imperial trooper, he argued with himself. Like Wilton had said, his training made him valuable to the Empire, didn't it? His unit would never just forget about him.

A stomach-turning lurch reminded him that his unit was dead, along with his true commander. The destruction of the second Death Star had sealed his fate. He had been jailed, was forgotten, abandoned, completely alone. Trooper TK326 had disappeared. His extended family would be given condolences, his sister would cry, his mother would mourn. For all intents and purposes, he was dead.

Tank took a shivery breath as his new reality crystallized in his mind. He was imprisoned in an escape proof cell on the Star Destroyer _Perpetrator_ somewhere in the Latolian Sector, his unit was dead, and no one knew where he was.

He was in deep Bantha poop this time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

As Tank continued to stare at the uncaring walls, his horror only grew. _What am I going to do now? Since I just_ _had_ _to meet my new captain, why didn't I lie, or not bring up Skywalker at all? I know how low Imperial opinion is concerning him. I should have been more careful. Now, here I am, inhabiting this empty cell. So think, moron! How do I get out of this?_ The situation couldn't be as hopeless as it appeared. There must be something he could do.

If there was something he could do, however, he sure couldn't think of it. The walls were smoother than the bottom of a newborn Dewback. The floor was as clean and unscuffed as a brand new pair of boots. There wasn't even a random screw or nail left hidden in any of the floor cracks that he could use as a very crude weapon. Not that he could really accomplish anything with a random nail, but at least he could claim to have found something! There wasn't even an air vent in the ceiling, just waiting to be used in a desperate escape attempt. _Let's face it; this cell has a whole lot of_ _nothing!_

Tank slowly sank down to the cell's single sleeping platform. _You did it this time, Tank ol' buddy. There was no real reason for you to come back to the Imperial Fleet like you did. You should have run when you had the chance. Since you didn't, you should have just kept your mouth shut. You're nothing but a trusting, gullible… Suns, at this rate you'll end up being more naive than Luke._

Tank gave a sudden start. _Of course. I can contact Luke, just like he told me to do if I got into trouble. Why didn't I think of that before? I'm such an idiot!_

Yet, contacting Luke required Tank to be calm, to be focused,to _use the Force._ Tank wasn't sure he believed in the Force, let alone wanted to use it. _Could_ he use it? Did it matter if he couldn't as long as Luke could?

Luke was one of those people who were strong Force users, right? Like Darth Vader had been before he mysteriously died. There was that time on the shuttle when Luke had cut his weapon into three parts using nothing but a lightsaber. Wasn't a lightsaber the chosen weapon of someone who used the Force? Since Luke had used a lightsaber, he was probably one of those Force users. _He_ certainly believed in this Force stuff, and Tank had no reason not to believe in his friend. So, this Force stuff was real… right?

Tank grimaced; Luke's apparent beliefs were hardly proof that this weird energy field existed. Sure, he had done some astonishing things with that saber of his, all in amazingly awkward positions, and looking like a monk while he did it, but anybody could be taught to do tricks like that. This proved nothing.

Tank continued to contemplate the blank cell wall in front of him. He felt like ten kinds of stupid for considering using something he couldn't see, but if he had to use the Force in order to get out of here, then he would just have to get over his doubts and do it. 'Cause he sure didn't see any other way of escaping from his new home.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Tank did what Luke had told him to do while they'd built a funeral pyre together on Endor; he tentatively thought his call. _Hey Luke, I could really use some help getting out of this cell._ Then he held his breath and waited.

He wasn't sure what was supposed to happen, but he was fairly sure that something was. But unless that something had been really subtle, he'd received a great big _nothing_.

So he thought his plea for help again, and held his breath again.

And again, he got nothing.

The flush of embarrassment crept over him. _Leaping Jawas, I feel like an idiot._

But he thought his plea into the void once more, just in case he was actually doing something productive. _Some help with this prison thing would be good about now._

More held breath. More nothing.

 _Man, this cell is quiet. I could hear anything. But I hear one big_ _nothing_ _. A person can go crazy in all this silence… which is probably the idea. You know… prisoner… going crazy… isn't that the idea of prison?_

Tank didn't want to go crazy.

 _Okay, if it means getting out of this cell, then the Force is what I'll use. Luke obviously thinks it has some merit._

 _Since when did I ever care what Luke thought about anything?_

But the confident young man Tank had encountered on the shuttle barely resembled the Luke Skywalker he'd known on Tatooine. Oh, he _looked_ like Luke, sure enough. But it seemed as if the boy had finally grown up, yet looked like that growing up hadn't been the fun he'd always anticipated it would be. He behaved as if he had the weight of the whole galaxy on his shoulders, though he seemed to welcome that responsibility. If even Luke could develop such a powerful sense of obligation, then…

 _Times sure have changed._

At least, Luke seemed less whiny. Tank remembered how the younger Luke had always been going on about something, usually how he wanted to shake the dust of Tatooine of his boots, but his uncle wouldn't let him. Tank had always secretly wondered why he listened to his uncle, anyway. So the old man wanted his help for another season. That didn't mean Luke had to stay. For suns' sake, was the boy over the legal age limit or not? If he wanted to go, then he should just go!

But he didn't. Like the good nephew he said he didn't care about being, but clearly did, he stayed on for one more season… and one more after that… and the one after that. Tank had just figured that Luke was in fact soft, always complaining about not leaving, but never doing anything about it. Yet, he was always good for a laugh, could fly better than anybody, and was certainly nicer than most of the Tatooine rats, but…

Tank shook his head as he settled into the self inflicted argument. _This is getting me nowhere. I'm stalling, and I can't stall forever._

 _Then again, what else have I got to do?_

 _I could sleep on it… see if I feel less stupid tomorrow._

 _No! Don't you go pulling a Luke. Stop dreaming and just do it._

So Tank took a deep breath, and tried thinking his plea for assistance one more time. _Hey Luke, some help here, please._

Nothing again.

 _Stop being a sandcrawler, Luke, and help me outta this mess._

More nothing.

 _Okay, Sky-dude, use the Force, or whatever._

Nothing.

 _You told me to call, so I'm calling. I could really use some of that stuff you do right about now… or now… or even now would be a good time._

Total silence. This was fast becoming annoying. He'd try one last time. Maybe shouting his mental call would help.

 _YO LUKE, HELP!_

And suddenly there was a response in his mind. _Don't go all Bantha on me. I heard you the first time._

Tank was so surprised that he fell off the sleeping platform.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Tank landed in a heap on the floor, stunned. _Wow! There really_ _is_ _a thing called the Force._

 _Of course there is. What did you think, that I had made it all up?_

Tank could hear Luke's voice in his mind. How was this possible? _How can we-?_

 _How can we talk like this? This proves what I suspected all along… you're a Force sensitive, a_ _weak_ _one, but one all the same. You couldn't hear me if you weren't._

Well, this was a surprise that Tank hadn't seen coming. He didn't know what he thought about being sensitive to the Force. He didn't feel any different than he had before he'd known. Was he supposed to? He would have to think about this more during one of the long drawn-out quiet times when he didn't have someone in his head. _Can even a weak Force person move things around with his mind?_ Tank could see how useful that would be when playing pranks on his future comrades.

 _I doubt you'll ever be able to do more than what you're doing right now_ , Luke regretfully replied. _Probably the only reason you can even hear me is because I'm such a strong Force sensitive myself. I'm not sure. I've never talked to anyone like this._

 _Never?_

 _Never. I had to get in range for even this much. That's why it took me so long to answer you._

 _What do you mean, in range? Are you close by?_

 _Ehhhh… not really. At least, not how you would think about being close. Technically, everything's close in the Force, even if you're not physically close._

Tank was already confused, but he didn't plan to tell Luke that. _Okay, how physically close are you?_

 _Not very. You'll have to sit tight for a while before any rescue happens._

 _I've already been sitting here for hours._

 _Where are you?_

 _On the Star Destroyer_ _Perpetrator_ _somewhere in the Latolian Sector, level fifteen, I think, Detention Block 2A49. I don't know what number this cell is._  
 _If you can't be more specific than that, this might take a bit longer._ A hint of dryness tinted Luke's voice.

Tank's dismissive shrug to a conversation only he could hear would look weird to anybody else, so it was a good thing no one could see him _. I've told you what I know. You must be near the Latolian Sector; you said you heard my first call. What have you been doing since then?_

 _I had some… things… to take care of_. _And now I have more things._

 _Some things?_ What kind of an answer was that?

Tank must have been thinking and not even realized it, for Luke replied, _I was being vague on purpose. You never know who's listening._

Listening? Who could be listening?

 _It pays to be careful,_ Luke thought, his voice slightly rueful now, as if he had some personal experience with not being as careful as he should.

An image of a stump where a hand should be abruptly coalesced in Tank's mind, but it was gone as fast as it had come. In any case, he had no idea what it meant, which was probably just as well. _Okaaaay, I'm not even going to ask._

And apparently, Luke wasn't going to explain, either, for he said, _Just sit tight. I'll be there… soon._

 _Soon? What does_ _that_ _mean?_

 _I'm going to have to end this communication. It's taking more energy than I thought it would. Just be ready._

 _Ready for what?_

But there was no response. Tank shivered. The cell immediately felt emptier without Luke's voice in his head. Which was ridiculous. How could the cell feel emptier when Luke had never really been in it to begin with? But the feeling persisted. Tank hadn't realized how much he appreciated talking to someone until that someone disappeared.

 _Wow, I must have been in this cell for longer than I thought. I'm already going a little crazy._

It sure hadn't taken long for the 'crazies' to set in. Tank heaved a sigh that echoed in the empty box-like cell.

Even if Luke arrived in the next hour to help him out, it promised to be a Very. Long. Hour.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

The hour turned into a day. The day turned into a week. The week turned into a month. At that point, Tank stopped keeping track of how much time was passing.

Tank needed to shave. He needed to change clothes. Heck, he admitted that he could even use a bath. Having grown up on a planet where no one bathed overly much, this admittance cost him a great deal of personal humility.

Most of all, he could do with a change of scenery. Those four blank walls were starting to get extremely boring.

His cell wasn't bound to become a hot spot of excitement any time soon, though. Except for that one time when he'd mentally spoken to Luke, and the two times per day he was fed, he hadn't even talked to anyone but himself.

At first, he'd sung every song he could remember to help pass the time, but he couldn't remember very many. Besides, his singing voice left a lot to be desired.

Next, he recited every bawdy limerick and dirty joke he'd ever known, and as he'd been an Imperial foot soldier for several years, he knew quite a few. He idly wondered if Rebel soldiers were as interested in dirty jokes as Imperial soldiers were, but since there was no one to ask, he just kept wondering.

Finally, he drifted into silence. He figured that most prisoners eventually grew silent. It was an obvious side effect of being imprisoned. Since he was in prison, did that make him a captive? Who else that he knew had ever been a captive? No one that he could think of.

Were Alliance cells much like these dull Imperial ones? But come to think of it, the Rebel Alliance moved around too much to bother with captives. They had never been as fixed as the Empire, and so weren't set up for captives.

Not that the Rebellion mattered anymore, anyway. Tank wasn't even sure if the Empire mattered anymore. Since the Death Star II had exploded, that meant that the Emperor had certainly died, which meant that his Empire had also died. If the Empire no longer mattered, then the Imperial Starfleet most certainly didn't. Luke claimed that the Emperor had been killed before the Death Star II had exploded, anyway. Tank himself had seen that the Emperor's assistant Darth Vader was dead, too, and the destruction of the second Death Star had happened even though it had been operational at the time. Tank still wondered how the Rebels had managed to pull that off. Hadn't the second Death Star's shield bunker located on Endor been a trap meant to lure in the Rebel soldiers? Hadn't the entire Rebel Fleet been pulled into that trap? Tank was fairly sure that he'd heard rumors to that effect. Yet the Rebellion had still decimated the far superior Imperial Fleet. The Empire had had time, intel, technology, weaponry, numbers, ships, Darth Vader, and the Emperor on their side, yet the Imperials had undoubtedly lost that last battle. How had the Rebels done it?

Maybe Luke had been the Rebellion's secret weapon all along, and Luke was just that good. But Luke was only twenty-three… or twenty-four… or twenty-five. How could he already be better at manipulating the Force than Darth Vader and the Emperor combined?

And how could Tank have grown up with Luke and still not know his age? What did he really know about Luke, anyway?

Luke's parents were dead, and he didn't have any siblings. He was an orphan. That's why Owen and Beru Lars were raising him. Luke could do some amazing things with anything that could fly. He knew a fair amount about mechanics. Other than that, he was just another whiny Tatooine dreamer.

And now his aunt and uncle were dead, he'd joined the Rebel Alliance, and he'd obviously spent some time becoming a Jedi. That summed up what Tank knew about Luke Skywalker.

Tank wondered if Luke had ever found out anything definite about his parents, particularly his father, since that was who he seemed to be most interested in. He'd certainly gone on and on about how wonderful the man must have been before his death. Suns, Luke hadn't even been born yet when he'd died, so how would Luke know if he was wonderful or not? He could have been the most evil man in the galaxy for all Luke knew. And if he were, would that make Luke evil just by association?

But that was a dumb idea! How could Luke become something he knew nothing about? That would mean that the evil of the father was part of Luke's instincts, no matter what he personally thought about himself. Then again, Luke had inherited his talent for flying from his father; Tank had overheard his own parents talking about that before his dad had died.

If talents were inherited, did that mean that good and evil was inherited, too?

And what did that mean for Tank himself? His dad had been good enough on the whole, but he had also been an undeniable jerk in his personal dealings, always yelling at people and causing scenes. Did that mean that Tank couldn't help being a jerk, too? Or his sister couldn't? He didn't know about Tania, but he'd always tried _not_ to be a jerk, just to be different from his dad. Was Tania also trying not to be like their dad by not yelling at people even when she got frustrated? Or was she trying not to be like their mom? Their mom had always been overly interested in social climbing, according to Tank, but Tania had always seemed more interested in the exact opposite of that, what Mom called 'the unseemly side of society.' Tank knew that Tania not only recorded holos for the Empire, but also spent time recording the details of a plethora of abstract subjects that always seemed to originate from that more unseemly society. He wondered if their mom even knew about that?

And did any of this matter, really? He was never going to get out of this cell at this rate. Luke was never going to come. He was never going to get any help at all, ever. He had been a prize jerk at the one time it mattered in his life that he not be a jerk, and had ended up in this stupid little box of a room that...

His cell door suddenly swished open and Luke burst into the room.

"I'm Luke Skywalker. I'm here to rescue you."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Tank gaped in astonishment. "I know who you are! I haven't lost all my sanity yet."

"Sorry," Luke replied, chagrined. "I couldn't resist a personal memory."

A scowling Tank wasn't sorry at all, but accused, "We don't have time for memories 'cause it sure took you long enough to get here!"

Luke winced. "Some of those things that I had to do took longer than expected."

Tank immediately felt guilty. "No, I'm the one who's sorry." Here was his friend laying everything on the line to rescue him, and one of the first things he did was accuse him of taking too long. His manners had obviously eroded since being tossed into this cell. "You're timing is perfect. After all, it's only been a month."

"A month and a day," Luke corrected. "I meant to come storming in here to get you out right away, but Han stopped me. He had an idea that has worked out great so far."

Tank's forehead wrinkled. "Who's Han?"

Luke marginally lowered the unignited lightsaber he carried in his gloved right hand. "You'll know him as General Solo."

"Oh, _him_." Solo's reputation for utilizing unusual yet highly successful strategic maneuvers was known throughout the Empire. "I heard he was a thief before he became a general."

Luke grinned, something Tank certainly hadn't seen him do when they'd been together on that Imperial shuttle. "Actually, he was a smuggler before he became a general."

Tank nodded in understanding, seeing how knowing smugglers could have been of great help to the Rebel Alliance. In fact, he-

Then he suddenly cut himself off in growing confusion. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"

Luke almost smiled. "That's part of Han's idea. I'm pretending to be his prisoner, so we walked right in through the front door… the lift, in this case. He's out there now, giving a surprise inspection to the security personnel so they're too busy to notice how my stormtrooper 'guards' are letting me talk to another prisoner."

Tank snorted inelegantly. "Well, you're a king to come get me out of here. I owe you one."

Luke returned his lightsaber to the clip on his belt. "Always good to have a real stormtrooper on your side. Do you still have access to your armor?"

"No, they said it wouldn't do much good laying in a cell, so they threw me in here in my underwear." Tank appreciated it when Luke did his best to strangle his amusement.

"Well, there's bound to be a cloak in the shuttle if you get cold, and there's some clothes back at the Fleet… though they may not be up to your standards. We couldn't afford to be picky in the Rebellion."

"After a month in the same clothes, _anything_ that's clean will be an improvement. I definitely owe you one."

"You can pay me back right now."

"Huh?"

"Come out and meet everybody so I can rescue you and talk at the same time."

Tank hesitantly accepted Luke's invitation, following his friend out the door where two stormtroopers were standing guard in the corridor. Doors exactly like the one he and Luke had just walked through lined the corridor walls, and except for the two troopers and a small light at one end, the corridor was dark and empty.

Luke gestured towards the nearest trooper guard. "This is Wedge, and the other is Lando."

Tank shook the first trooper's hand. "Tank Sharpson."

The trooper answered affably enough considering they'd been enemies until a month ago. "Actually, I'm Lando. He's Wedge." The helmet swung to face Luke. "We'll walk slow, but make it fast." The trooper took the lead, and the second fell in behind them.

Luke nodded, started to amble forward, and turned to Tank walking beside him. "I'm starting an academy," he peremptorily explained. "Wanna join?"

Tank's wrinkles of confusion deepened. "But you told me that I'm too weak to do much with the Force, certainly not enough to become a Jedi."

Luke looked perplexed now. "Who said anything about the Jedi?"

"That's what this academy is for, isn't it? To train people to become Jedi?"

"The Force sensitive ones, yes. But other people can be part of this academy, too. Hopefully, a big part. That's where you come in. I take it that you no longer have any interest in returning to the Imperial Fleet now?"

"None whatsoever," Tank dryly insisted.

Luke brightened. "Then you need a new job. I seem to remember that in school, you were good at everything, so I'm offering you one."

This was not at all what Tank had expected upon seeing Luke again. "A job?"

"I'll teach about the Force, you teach about… other stuff… until we get more instructors, anyway. Then you can choose what you want to teach."

Tank was silent as he considered. _Stay on this Star Destroyer and rot in that cell, or…_ "Let me take a bath first, then you've got yourself a deal." He didn't want to scare potential students away with just his smell.

Luke's face creased in delight. "You're sure?"

"Yeah." Tank straightened too. "Imagine me, a teacher." His mom would be so impressed!

Why did he even care what his mom might think?

Luke clapped his hand on Tank's shoulder, distracting him. "If the Force is with us, we'll both live to be 900 years old like _my_ teacher."

The trooper in front suddenly spoke. "Hey Luke, hurry it up! We're getting fairly close to the station checkpoint, and they'll be sure to notice that they just saw us even if Solo is taking up all their attention."

"You're right; even Han can't smooze all day about a surprise inspection," Luke softly said. "Let's rescue him."

"You're the boss," whispered the front trooper.

Luke pushed his way forward as he unclipped his lightsaber. "Let me go first. If I hold my hands behind my back, it'll look like this is a normal prisoner transfer."

A hollow chuckle sounded from behind one of the white helmets. "This is a rescue for the archives. Here's a guy who was a stormtrooper dressed only in his underwear, and two Rebels dressed as stormtroopers. Now I've seen everything."

"I just hope we get out of here without killing anyone," Luke hissed.

They didn't want to kill anyone? Tank could help with that. "All us stormtroopers had standing orders to take Skywalker alive. Say the code 17, 69, 75, 21LS3' into your helmet mic, and as long as that order is still standing, all the troopers will automatically set their weapons to 'stun.'"

If armored stormtroopers could look surprised, those two troopers did. "Oh. That makes our job much easier. Thanks." Both troopers set their weapons to stun as the one who'd answered softly issued the directive through his helmet mic.

Tank was hardly concerned that he had just given private trooper information to members of the former Rebel Alliance. If the war was truly going to end, then they had to stop issuing secret orders.

Luke proceeded down the corridor first, hands held firmly behind his back, hiding his lightsaber. The two fake troopers followed, weapons drawn, and Tank brought up the rear, concealed by the bulkier soldiers. Whispering, he asked, "How are we getting out of here?"

"Watch and learn," one of the troopers replied in a low voice.

Then they were in the detention block's anteroom, and all chatter ceased.

With his hands grasped convincingly behind his back, Luke's index finger twitched towards the trooper on his left, and whoever that was parading around as an Imperial announced to the officer on duty, "New orders. Skywalker is to be transferred to maximum security."

Two Imperial officers had clearly been involved in an intense conversation, but now they stepped back. The one inside the control ring announced, "I wasn't notified. I'll have to clear it with Command."

The second officer laced his fingers behind his back into a pose of relaxed authority. "Carry on, Lieutenant." He then prepared to accompany the troopers ostensibly guarding Luke.

The Lieutenant pushed a button on his computer panel. "This is…" and that was when the trooper nearest to Luke shot the computer officer while the second trooper shot the three other Imperials standing just outside the computer ring.

The one officer left alive gave a jump as the bodies slowly slid to the floor. "That wasn't necessary."

 _Ah,_ Tank thought, _this is obviously General Solo._

"They're only stunned," the fake trooper told him. He gestured at Tank with his still smoking gun. "He gave us the right codes. Was he ever worth rescuing!"

Hardly mollified, the Imperial officer who was Han Solo retorted, "Lando, I'm amazed at you! You know better than to trust an Imperial."

"Former Imperial," Tank corrected from the rear. "I'm a teacher now. I work for Luke." Those words were just so good to say!

It didn't impress Fake Officer Solo, however. "Wonderful; another dreamer from Tatooine. Just what we need." He took his place at the head of the small column of three fake Imperials, one fake prisoner, and one rescued stormtrooper. "Okay dreamers, let's go."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Tank wished he was wearing more clothes, especially something more substantial on his feet, but didn't complain as they moved swiftly out of the detention block. Solo went first, hands held arrogantly behind his back, though when Tank looked closer, this position was meant to hide the worst of a ragged blood stain on his left cuff. He stared at the back of the troopers' heads, noting how the armor made the stormtroopers appear very intimidating. But the way these two troopers carried themselves, it would be clear in seconds they were imposters.

Tank tried not to outwardly cringe. If they kept acting like new recruits on a training cruise, it would be a miracle if they made it as far as the mythical shuttle in the hangar bay, to say nothing of reaching the remains of the Rebel Fleet!

"Walk closer to the the prisoner," Tank suggested in a low voice. "Hold your guns in both hands. Look straight ahead. Don't seem so… I don't know, so untrooperish. And tell Luke to look more like a prisoner. Unless he really wants to become a prisoner."

The trooper on Luke's right prodded him with the end of his weapon. "Hey Luke, the Imp says to look more like a prisoner."

Out of the side of his mouth, Luke mumbled, "How do prisoners look?"

"I don't know! Hey, Imp, how-?"

Tank didn't let him finish, but whispered to Luke, "Stare at the floor. Look scared, a little lost, like you don't know what's coming next, but you're sure it's gonna be terrible." Suns, Luke was a Rebel. Hadn't he _ever_ been taken prisoner before now?

A minute later, they rounded a corner and ran into an entire patrol of stormtroopers. A minute after that, Tank understood why Luke had never been taken prisoner.

One of the enemy stormtroopers yelled, "There they are; blast them!" Instantly, the corridor filled with wicked looking laser bolts and choking smoke.

Blood stain forgotten, a blaster somehow materialized in Solo's hand. He pumped laser bolts towards the group as fast as he could, all the while quickly retreating back the way they had come. "Game's up. Luke, you're on!"

"Stun only!" Luke fiercely reminded as he immediately dropped the pretense of being a cowed prisoner and leapt to the front of the group, activated lightsaber gripped loosely in both hands. The next thing Tank saw was a blur of green as Luke used the glowing blade to effortlessly deflect every laser bolt aimed their way.

The amazing thing was not only the deflection part, but that Luke then sent the laser bolts unerringly back towards individual troopers, instantly stunning them with their own fire power. He lifted his left hand out and gave a pulling motion, using unseen fingers to yank several weapons back towards those behind him. He swished his arm to the side so that the five troopers right in front of them slid away to the wall. The hand next rose above his head, and three troopers flew to the ceiling as if tugged there by invisible ropes. They hung upside down for a second until abruptly shooting backwards to drop on top of a whole slew of their unsuspecting comrades, taking out at least twelve troopers with one motion. The green saber scorched the walls to black as another round of laser bolts careened into them. A third spray of laser fire ended up mowing down another file of troopers, and several more skidded to the right to smash into the white corridor wall before sliding down to the floor in piles of armor and splayed limbs. Off balance, stunned, or unconscious, the entire legion was taken out in fifty seconds.

"Wow," breathed Tank, his eyes wide. So this was using the Force. Was this what facing off against Darth Vader had been like? No wonder he'd had such a fearsome reputation.

Solo probed a downed trooper with the toe of his boot, flipping the faceless man over. "How'd they know we weren't just transferring a prisoner?"

"Maybe there was a fourth trooper in the detention block, and he sent out an alarm?" one of the fake troopers surmised.

Luke just shook his head and muttered, "Doesn't matter. Words out. Here's where the fun begins. Lando, Wedge, get rid of that armor. No use wearing it when everyone already knows we're here."

"Can't see in this stupid helmet anyway," a dark man said as he tossed the offending helmet to the side. Then he glanced at Tank. "No offense."

"None taken," Tank assured. It had been a standing joke in the barracks about how horrible the line of sight really was in those helmets. Leg braces and chest plates soon clattered to the floor alongside the helmets. At least these men were wearing clothes under their armor.

"Tank, grab one of those guns."

"I've already done it, Luke."

"You're sure it's set to stun?"

Tank glanced at the bodies littering the corridor. "It's a bit late to ask that question, don't you think?"

Luke cocked his head. "Riiiight. Let's go." They took off down the corridor at a quick trot. "Tank, which way is fastest to the main hangar?"

"The shortest route is right through the barracks on level nine. But the quickest way is through the empty guest quarters."

"And that would be..?"

"On level three." Tank's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "Don't you Rebels have schematics to all of our SDs?"

"The old ones, sure," replied the man called Wedge. "But the plans for these new ones are more carefully guarded. _Too_ carefully." The annoyance in his tone showed this to be from personal experience of the most negative kind.

If this Wedge fellow had tried to steal such plans in the past, then it was amazing he was still alive. But rather than comment on it, Tank simply said, "Then follow me, and if we get separated, follow your nose."

"Yeah, we can smell you a parsec away," Lando agreed, and Wedge gave an appreciative laugh while Solo kept glancing over his shoulder, as if expecting more trouble.

Luke, on the other hand, materialized right at Tank's side without having to be prompted. "You lead the way, and I'll clear your path."

As fast as possible, they set off down another white corridor that appeared identical to the one they had been in, minus the stunned troopers lying on the floor. Tank's tight black underclothes were at odds in the stark white of the corridors. He gestured toward Luke's saber as he ran. "How did you get so good with that thing?"

"I told you," Luke vaguely remarked. "I had a teacher."

"Yeah, he was 900 years old, or something like that. Did he die?"

Luke nodded, and his expression turned sad. "He did. He was the Yoda that I mentioned before."  
Now Tank remembered. "That's right, you did mention him. But you didn't say anything about your parents; ever find out more about them?"

"I talked to your mom before I came to rescue you," Luke commented, deftly changing the subject. "She doesn't like me much."  
Tank did a double take. "If she spoke to you at all, then she was being nice. What did you need to talk to Mom about?"

"Things," Luke said, negligently sending a stun bolt back at a trooper trying to capture them.

"Is this one of those times when it's good to be careful?"

"It is."

Two more troopers joined their friend in unconsciousness, and the group ran on.

"I noticed how you dodged the question about your parents," Tank suddenly said. "Does that mean you don't know anything more about them, or that you don't want to talk about it?"

Surprisingly, Luke winced. "I haven't quite decided yet."

"Is it a secret?"

"It is… from a certain point of view."

Tank reared back, a trick while at an all-out run. "A certain point of view?"

Luke tried to hide his unease. "My own point of view is fairly uncluttered, but I have to consider that I'm not just responsible for myself anymore."

Did that mean he felt responsible for the entire Rebellion? A new government? The galaxy as a whole? Or was there something else going on here?

Tank had drawn a breath to ask when four more stormtroopers suddenly materialized in a side corridor. They raised their blasters only to have Luke pulverize their guns with the flashing lightsaber. Then he shoved them into the wall before any of them had time to react, and they slid into an unconscious heap on the floor.

"I can see how it could be useful having you around," Tank idly commented as they hurried on.

Luke smiled, shyly admitting, "I have my moments." Then the smile turned rueful. "But Wedge can tell you that I still can't speak anything but Basic. Good thing that you don't need to know any other language in order to fly, or I would be grounded, fast."

"Still got your mechanic's license?"

Luke barked a laugh this time. "They don't hand out many licenses to known Rebel sympathisers."

"I let mine lag, too. It would make Fixer tear his hair out in frustration."

Luke gave a half grin. "Good old Fixer. Do you know if he ever married… what was her name?"

"You mean Camie?"

Luke threw out his hand and used the Force to shove a lone trooper back down another corridor when he tried to outflank them.

They jogged on as Tank continued, "Don't know. I haven't been back to Tatooine in years, and I haven't missed that dump. You?"

"I was back just a little while ago, but didn't see anybody."

Tank scowled. "What was the point of going back then?" Personally, he didn't think _anything_ was worth going back to that sandy rock.

"Had to rescue somebody."

Luke could make a business out of rescuing people. "In that case, I'm honored to be one among the crowd of people you've rescued." They had reached a bank of elevators, and all five of them surged into an empty car. "Level three," Tank brusquely ordered, and the lift swiftly rose.

The elevator door sighed open at level three… and the fifty stormtroopers who met them instantly pointed their weapons right at them. "Freeze!"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Tank waited for Luke to create havoc among this new legion of troopers, but all he did was twitch his hand.

"You don't need to take us prisoner," Luke casually said.

"We don't need to take you prisoner," repeated the unit commander.

"We're not the ones you're looking for."

"You're not the ones we're looking for."

"We can go now."

"You can go."

"Thank you." Then they just walked right through the stormtrooper legion like they weren't even there.

Tank looked over his shoulder at the group of unmoving troopers. "Not _that_ was impressive!"

But Luke didn't look convinced. He pointed down a corridor that branched off to the left. "Where does this lead?"

"To the Command and Control elevators."

"Command and Control?" Lando echoed. "As in, to the Bridge?"

"Doesn't matter where it leads as long as it's not the detention level," Luke insisted, shoving the others towards the empty corridor. "The troops are getting restless, and I can't hold that many. We've got to go." They had just started down the corridor when the stormtroopers behind them woke to what they were attempting.

"They're getting away; stop them!"

The rescuers broke into a wild run, pounding the floor with their boots, all except for Tank, who slid across the polished floor on socks meant to be worn as part of a regulation stormtrooper uniform.

Solo pumped laser bolts at random into the armored crowd, bringing down three, then manically faced another legion of armored men appearing in front of them. "More troopers at point oh-one!"

As if by some prearranged signal, Lando immediately focused on the front facing troopers, and Wedge on the ones closing in behind them. Luke deflected any incoming laser bolts with his lightsaber, but he could only face one direction at a time. Solo shot a constant stream of laser blasts, accurate more often than not, but there were just so many troopers this time. As soon as one went down, three more took its place.

Wedge matched Solo shot for shot, but his one blaster couldn't defend against a hundred soldiers. Lando stunned two more troopers, and Tank sprayed bolts into the crowds at random, hoping to hit something, though he realized he had never been what one might call a good shot. Luke's saber flashed through the air, but it still wasn't enough. The stormtroopers were gaining ground every second.

It was clear to Tank that they were being hampered by Luke's insistence that none of their adversaries be harmed; because of that edict, the troopers were becoming more bold and reckless by the minute. They could still make a break for it if the enemy soldiers were worried that Luke might kill a few of them, but he was adamant. "There's already been enough death in this war. We have to draw the line somewhere."

"Tell that to Leia," Solo called as he renewed his shooting frenzy. "It's kill or be captured!"

"I won't!" Instead, once again Luke threw out his left hand, squeezed it into a fist, then flung his fingers wide open. One unit captain dropped his weapon as if it burned, then flew back as Luke used the Force to shove him into three more troopers. Using a passing service droid, he bowled the feet out from under four more. He flung his hand up, and two troopers flew to the ceiling, only to drop to the floor a second later.

Tank found it hard to pay attention to what he was doing rather than to simply watch Luke take out trooper after trooper. The Jedi stunned ten more when his saber deflected laser bolts into them, tripped one, sliding him like a rolled up rug through the cadre of stormtroopers before him, and plowed three more into the far right wall. He whipped around to fling two stormtroopers into the line of soldiers steadily gaining ground in the corridor they had just come from, deflected eight more laser bolts, stunned another unit captain, and shoved seven more into an open elevator, flinging the door closed behind them.

But no matter what they did, the numbers of adversaries only increased. Things were fast becoming desperate. Tank grabbed a weapon abandoned on the floor to send laser bolts into the crowd of troopers ahead of them as well as behind. Wedge and Lando had also acquired second weapons, while Solo was living up to his reputation by doing things with his one blaster that Tank had never imagined a blaster could do.

Yet, the troopers on both fronts relentlessly closed in on them, the rescuers barely firing fast enough to hold them at bay. Wedge ripped the helmet off a stunned soldier and threw it at the oncoming troopers. When they dodged, Luke took advantage of their momentary lack of focus to shove them back with an outflung hand.

It was at this point that the doors to one of the elevators opened, and out stepped two officers led by none other than Captain Wilton himself. Tank didn't see how things could possibly get any worse. They would be captured. It would be over in the next instant.

It really was over in the next instant, but not remotely how Tank had predicted it would be over.

" _Now!_ " Luke yelled the second that Wilton closed in on the fight. Without another word, the rescuers dropped to the floor like they'd practised such a movement till they could do it in their sleep. Tank gave an astonished yelp as Wedge dragged him down beside him. The action was so quick that the stormtroopers weren't able to react to it fast enough. They continued to fire at an alarming rate, laser bolts zipping over the rescuers' heads as the troopers on both sides unwittingly stunned each other. Then, in an amazingly synchronized maneuver, the man named Lando vaulted to the side to stun the officer standing nearest to Captain Wilton while Solo literally flew through the air to take out the other officer.

Smoke curled seductively around the mass of downed Imperials to hang languidly in the air. Tank and his rescuers climbed cautiously to their feet as Captain Wilton stared at the stunned figures surrounding him, then turned his startled gaze straight to Luke.

Wilton was so white, he looked like he was staring at a ghost. "As I live and breathe, it _is_ you."

In a flash of insight, Tank understood that these two men shared some history together. Something had happened in the past that influenced Wilton's opinion of Luke Skywalker, and in turn had influenced his judgment on Tank. That was the reason behind his incarceration, not just that he should have turned an enemy of the now defunct Empire into a prisoner.

The captain continued staring hard at Luke. "Skywalker, in the flesh."

"Well, almost." Unapologetic, Luke peeled back his right sleeve to show a barely visible line at his wrist that denoted the beginnings of a hand prosthetic.

Tank blinked. Luke had a prosthetic? _Really?_ After what he had just witnessed, he would never have guessed!

But Wilton wasn't nearly as impressed as Tank. _"_ Is that supposed to stir my sympathy?"

"I won this in a fight with my father, Anakin Skywalker. Surely you've heard of him."

Sounding bored, as if he'd heard this type of claim many times before, Wilton said, "Whoever he was, he obviously wasn't someone important enough to be well known in the Empire."

Luke gave an irritated huff. "My mistake. You knew him as Darth Vader."

Wilton and the rescuers gave a mighty jump. Tank nearly fell back to the floor, his mouth wide open in naked astonishment. Darth Vader was Luke's _father?_ According to their reactions, this was clearly new information even to Luke's friends. No wonder he had wanted to bury Vader on Endor. Tank had thought it had something to do with the Dark Lord being a fellow Force user, and Luke hadn't denied that assumption. But his reasons had been so much more than that. It made sense now that Luke had been so unsure about announcing his lineage.

But wait a minute. Luke's father had been dead for as long as Tank had known Luke. Because he'd known about Luke's long-standing dreams about his father, Tank had a really good idea how this kind of news must have affected those fatherly dreams, to say nothing of Luke's concept of himself. Wouldn't common knowledge of this information cause any person in the galaxy who had ever been wronged by Vader to seek retribution through Luke? For there was no getting around the fact that Lord Vader had never even come close to reflecting the pristine image that Luke had always held of his father.

Tank recalled the memory of the severed hand he had seen during his and Luke's mental conversation, and now that image made awful sense. That had been Luke's hand, apparently cut off by his own father. The very thought made Tank shiver. He had wondered if the newfound maturity he had sensed in his childhood friend had come at a possibly painful price. Now he knew.

"The truth was bound to come out when I least wanted it to," Luke explained to the gaping captain. "Now, that information can never be used against me."

At that, Wilton accused, "I bet you're just going to follow in your father's footsteps, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not," Luke emphatically declared. "My father was once a good man who, for reasons of his own, embraced the dark side of the Force. The dark side may be powerful, but it's not for me."

"So you say!" Wilton scorned. "We'll probably find out you're just like him when you strangle your first officer."

Luke stared at him out of impossibly sad eyes, as if even hearing that theory made him positively morose. "Tell me, how would Vader have reacted to such a question?"

"Choke hold," Tank quickly informed. "Then he would kill someone."

Luke nodded. "If I'm so like my father, then why are all our weapons set to stun?"

Wilton was slow to recover from the thoughtful shock that fell on him after Luke's rhetorical question. "What does any of this matter? Lord Vader is dead. I even heard that _you_ killed him!"

A feverish light invaded Luke's eyes. "Darth Vader was a terrible being, I won't deny it, but he saved my life, and died as Anakin Skywalker. Don't you forget _that_." The fiery words brought a look of surprise to Wilton's face, as if he'd never anticipated a consciously caring sith lord. "My point," Luke continued in a much calmer tone, "is that I don't need a lightsaber to convince you that the Skywalkers will no longer be bargaining chips in galactic games of domination. Let's work together instead of using each other."

The laser blaster Wilton pulled from the back of his belt was more threatening than agreeable. "No deal."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

Luke didn't even bother to point out the foolishness of this decision. Before Wilton could do anything with or without his blaster, the Jedi simply jerked his arms upward, and every weapon in the area zipped to the ceiling, including his lightsaber and Wilton's own blaster. Regulation stormtrooper guns mixed with Rebel issue laser blasters, all eerily circling the silver handle of Luke's lightsaber. It was a deadly dance meters above their heads, well out of reach. With a casual flick of his wrist, the entire collection went careening down the corridor. He lowered his arms, and they fell to the floor with a great many clatters. "Now have I got your attention?"

Wilton's aggravated tone showed how unimpressed he was. "What do you want?"

"I want to talk."

"You want to talk," Wilton flatly echoed, suspicion growing in his eyes. "About?"

"Tank and I are starting an academy."

"And who is Tank?" Wilton asked with barely concealed hostility.

Tank instantly replied in terms that he knew Wilton would understand. "Trooper TK326."

Tank saw his rescuers wrinkle their noses at such a generic delineation, but was too distracted by his realization that Luke wanted to create the academy with him to pay them much attention. He had thought the academy idea was Luke's, and he was just going along with it. He was all for this newer idea that he was going to be a co-founder!

That is, until Luke added to Wilton, "I want you to join us."

 _Now, hold on!_ Tank wasn't so enthusiastic about that idea, but had barely opened his mouth to object before Luke's hand was up, stopping him.

Wilton scoffed in disbelief. "An academy… to train troops for your new galactic government?"

Luke grimaced. "Of course not! An academic academy, one where the true history of the galaxy is taught rather than propaganda. Where Force sensitives can come together openly without worry of interference from the Empire. Where military strategic history is taught without the threat of tearing the galaxy apart with another war. Where technology is explored, along with mechanics, as well as other subjects. Where people can learn to fly in safety. This will be a true academy, not just a school meant to build up someone's military."

Suspicions aroused, Wilton asked, "So… you want me for what?"

"The military strategy instructor. This academy isn't just for the Alliance, or for the Empire, but for both sides. At first, you and Tank will represent the Empire. Wedge and I will represent the Alliance. And besides, there's isn't any other Imperial of a strategic mind I respect as much."

Tank jumped. Luke respected this… this..?

Luke grinned wryly at Wilton, "You did capture me that one time. Not just anybody can do that."

Wilton seemed to inflate just a bit. "True."

But Tank still wasn't comfortable with this idea, especially after the man had so summarily dismissed his earlier story about the shuttle and tossed him into a detention cell. He wasn't sure he could ever forget that. He opened his mouth to object once more, but at the last moment recalled what Luke had said about how the two of them shared an obligation to bring this war to a halt if at all possible. Complaints about egregious treatment wouldn't do much to end this war. Somehow, Tank managed to hold back his criticism in order to give Luke the benefit of the doubt.

Wilton looked as if he didn't care about giving anything to anyone. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Flattery won't help you."

"This isn't meant to flatter you," Luke said. "This war has been nothing but destructive. We have to do whatever we can to bring it to an end, or both sides lose. What better way to show our determination to bring peace than to open up a school for the brightest and the best in all the galaxy?"

Wilton sighed in disgust, growling unhappily. "I suppose I'll be seen as nothing short of a space pirate if I refuse."

"Perhaps," Luke agreed without really agreeing to anything. "It's the responsibility of those who see the problem to fix the problem."

Well, that was an annoying mandate.

Wilton appeared to agree with Tank's silent assessment. "So what you're saying is that I should join you if I don't want to become part of the problem."

Luke gave a dramatic pause, then admitted, "Yes, that's what I'm saying. But I would be happy to have you as part of our academy."

Wilton choked a laugh. "I don't believe you."

"I don't care," Luke instantly replied. "You don't have to believe me to go along with me. The belief will come later."

There was a moment of contemplative silence as Luke and Wilton continued to size each other up. Both stood at attention with their hands clasped stubbornly behind their backs, and neither smiled, yet neither oozed obvious hatred, either. The atmosphere was pensively amicable, though Tank remained tense and ready in case it looked like he'd be needed. His other rescuers held themselves the same way. Apparently, they didn't share Luke's confidence that Wilton wouldn't harm anyone.

A silent moment ticked by, then another. Luke and Wilton just stared at each other. Wilton seemed at a loss without a weapon or armed troops backing him up.

"You're free to think about this first before giving your answer," Luke said, his voice loud in the otherwise silent corridor. "I realize how difficult this decision is. There must be a great deal to consider."

 _Yeah, like having to worry about a possible assassination attempt if he agrees._ But Tank kept his thoughts to himself.

It was clear that Wilton was debating with himself, weighing the likely outcomes. Another minute went by, and still he hadn't moved. Luke was no longer being openly attacked, but he _was_ standing toe to toe with an unfriendly-looking Imperial officer, even if that officer was more contemplative than combative. There was no doubt about it; Luke was either very brave…

Or very stupid.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 8

Wilton took a slow breath and let it hiss slowly out through his teeth, as if he couldn't believe that he was even considering this. They stood silently in unmoving groups as the awkward moment stretched out into several moments. At long last, Wilton said, "Count me in, Jedi," and stuck his hand out to shake on it and seal the deal.

Luke clasped Wilton's hand in turn. "With the Force on our side, there's nothing we can't do."

Wilton moved to stand in front of Tank, his hand outstretched for another shake."No hard feelings."

That was easy for him to say! Tank stared into the other man's face, a feeling of aversion washing over him. He knew that he was letting Luke down by not being immediately magnanimous towards Captain Wilton, but he couldn't help himself. "You refused to hear me out when I first wanted to discuss the idea of Rebel and Imperial coming together. Then, to make matters worse, you threw me into a detention cell for 'an indeterminate amount of time' to think over my error of not making Luke an instant prisoner. And now I'm supposed to forget and forgive, just like that?" Tank shook his head. "I'm just a stormtrooper, and was never taught basic diplomacy. I'm not sure I have any use for it."

Luke appeared at his side in the next second. "A friend once told me that diplomacy looks easy, but is more difficult than I could ever imagine, much harder than becoming a Jedi. I didn't believe her at the time." His look turned self-deprecating. "Now I know what she meant."

Tank didn't miss the irony of Luke's comment, and knew that now was the time to say something particularly profound. But all he could do was debate with himself as to whether to take Wilton's hand or not. He could cement Luke's deal with one simple hand movement, or he could ignore the possibilities being presented in this moment, and doom the war between Empire and Rebellion to continue for the foreseeable future.

Wilton went on holding his hand out to shake, and Tank continued to debate with himself. Neither withdrew, and neither pressed forward. The moment seemed as frozen as a slab of carbonite.

Tank's lips quivered in indecision. Luke's friend had definitely been right; this wasn't easy.

Then again, nothing worth doing ever was. Tank gave a relieved sigh, glad to have finally made a decision about this. Hoping he wouldn't regret it, he warily took Wilton's hand into his own, silently mocking himself for being the probable idiot that he was. "Step one for the archives."

Luke's blazing smile eclipsed Tanks' uncertainty. "First steps always seem small, but trust me, this is bigger than anything we've ever done."

Tank never had the chance to respond. Two troopers believed to be stunned suddenly became dangerously reanimated. Small palm blasters stored in their boots transferred straight into their waiting gloved hands as one trooper aimed at Luke, and the other targeted Captain Wilton.

Tank acted without thinking, throwing himself at the nearest trooper. From the other side of the corridor cross section, Solo did the same.

But none of them was as fast as Luke. It was as if his instincts never quite turned off even if he considered his current situation to be perfectly safe. Prepared to fire as they were, there was no possible way the two troopers could miss at such close range, yet when Luke simply flicked his finger to the side, they did. It was yet one more bizarre example of the Force in action. The laser bolts buried themselves in the wall directly behind Luke and Wilton.

In the next second, Tank clobbered the nearest trooper with all the pent up frustration of a man who'd spent the last month in a room the size of a box. Arms and legs and blaster all tangled together when they crashed into a rolling heap on the floor. Solo and his trooper suffered a similar fate, rolling into their comrades to come to a jarring halt.

Before any of them could even draw breath, Luke's discarded lightsaber lifted out of the pile of weapons at the end of the corridor and flew into his hand. A hiss sounded as it immediately ignited, the green blade coming to rest directly in front of the assassine troopers.

"Don't. Move."

Luke's command rang with more dangerous authority than any of his words had so far. Tank didn't know if the Jedi's directive pertained to him as well as the trooper he was currently tangled with, but he didn't intend to find out.

Not so for the second trooper. Solo was suddenly energetically shoved to the side, and the discrete palm blaster once again winked in the hand of the downed trooper. He fired at Wilton half a blink later.

Luke blocked the shot, sending the laser bolt back along its path to make a smoking hole in the assassin's chest. Without giving his actions a chance to sink in, he brought his weapon to bear on the other assassin. "Don't make me."

The voice lacked the warmth that Luke had so far displayed, leaving the impression to every witness that the fairly pleasant man they had been dealing with who insisted on stunning his adversaries rather than killing them had abruptly changed into a dangerous Jedi wielding a deadly weapon.

Neither Tank nor the stormtrooper under him did more than gulp shallow breaths. The blood from the first trooper continued to pool on the floor, coagulating an inch from Tank's nose.

 _Luke wouldn't really cut me in half, would he?_ Hot coils of irrational panic had started to worm its way through Tank's frozen insides when to his infinite relief, the trooper under him slowly raised his hands in surrender.

"Good. I don't want to kill you, too." Luke's clipped tone promised that he'd do just that, no matter what he said. "Tank, roll to the side."

Holding his breath, Tank very slowly slid off the armored man and onto the floor.

To the surrendering assassin, Luke ordered, "Stand up, slowly. No sudden moves, or you'll join your friend." The trooper slowly stood. Luke's gaze never once wavered from the trooper. "I know you're working for someone. I'll find him. When I do, I won't be this accommodating."

Still catching his breath after such a quick unfolding of events, Wilton helped Solo to his feet, then shakily took the man into custody, shackling his arms, then attaching the handcuffs right to the uniform's utility belt. Then he offered his hand to Tank.

As shaky as Wilton, Tank took the captain's offered hand without thinking and climbed to his feet. He'd barely straightened when the trooper turned his frowning helmet to face him. "Traitor," he hissed. "No matter where you go, we'll find you!"

"You can try," Tank retorted, refusing to be intimidated in spite of his still pounding heart.

Wilton jerked the man back away from Tank while Luke warned, "No heroics."

The trooper unwisely lunged in Luke's direction, and Wilton's second jerk was far less considerate than his first. He used his weight to expertly unbalance the surprised trooper, shackling him tightly to a ring embedded in the wall before anyone could protest.

"What do we do with him?" Tank asked, his voice faltering. He roughly cleared his throat.

"Leave him there," Lando said. "The others will wake up soon enough; they'll find him."

At that suggestion, Wilton whipped off his cap and secured it to the trooper's shoulder armor, pinning his name tag to the front of the cap. "There. That should let them know who left this little present."

Luke piped up, "They'll think we kidnapped you when they find you gone, you know."

"Yes, I know," Wilton said. "To them, there's no other explanation for the disappearance of an Imperial Officer."

"I'll tell them what a traitor you are," the assassin sneered at Wilton, "right before I tell them that I'm gonna kill you."

Not unaffected by the death threat, the captain's bravado instantly flared, but it was Luke who replied, "I dare you to try."

Then in a voice that was oddly reasonable considering the chaos, Solo interjected, "As much as making death threats makes my insides go soft, we should take these last moments before the others wake up to quietly disappear."

"Good idea," Luke agreed, and Wedge and Lando nodded their assent.

"Always the strategist, aren't you, Solo?" Tank observed. "My unit used to call you 'The  
Strategy King.'"

Solo grimaced uneasily. "Well right now, my strategic brain is tellin' me that we have a minute, maybe two, before this calm erupts into a trooper storm we could have avoided."

Lando asked, "Which way to..?"

"Ah!" Tank yelled to stop him mid question. He gestured to the assassin trooper as a way of explanation. "We don't want ole' Trigger Happy here to tell everyone where we went. Let's surprise them."

Luke retrieved their weapons from the pile at the end of the corridor and they all rearmed themselves. Wilton sent a friendly elbow prod into Tank's side as the six skirted stunned troopers and took off down an empty corridor. "Maybe you should be the strategy instructor instead of me."

Tank shook his head, grinning. "I'm no strategist, just a sensor mechanic."

Wilton invited, "Improve my shuttles' sensors, and I'll teach the other courses while you teach what you're good at, sensor mechanics."

This was a better arrangement than even Luke had suggested. "Deal!" Then Wilton's words registered. "Wait. _Your_ shuttle?"

Wilton suddenly smiled. "My own shuttle… in my own hangar bay. One of the perks of command. This way." He led them to an elevator, and they crowded in.

The elevator opened onto an empty corridor, and they continued on, encountering no one.

"Empty corridors," Lando anxiously muttered.

"Yeah, whoever heard of empty corridors on a Star Destroyer?" Solo asked. "Why does this make me worried?"

Wilton then said, "You are a suspicious lot. The corridors are empty because I didn't request the use of my shuttle."

Solo nodded in sudden understanding. "No shuttle to pilot, no crew necessary. Good thing we're all pilots here. We can fight over the controls."

Tank spoke up just as they passed into a second empty corridor. "Weren't you a captain of your own starship before becoming a general, General?"

Luke chimed in, "Han pilots, I navigate, Wedge backseat flies, and Lando tends to crew comfort." Luke shrugged as Wilton looked back at that in surprise. "I know most people don't care about crew comfort, but he's good at it."

Two more corridors later, they entered an eerily empty hangar bay. One Imperial shuttle sat serenely in the ready position, pointed towards the shielded bay door. "It's always ready to go at a moment's notice."

"Do all the higher ups have their own hangar bays?" Tank demanded.

Wilton never even blinked. "You should see an admiral's. I heard that Admiral Piet's hangar had a tether for his own personal TIE fighter as well as two fully equipped shuttles and a crew on constant standby."

"Just as long as _you_ don't have a crew on constant standby," Luke said.

Wilton laughed, something that Tank would never suspect that he was capable of doing. "You really _are_ a suspicious lot, aren't you?"

They were striding up the loading ramp when a clatter from behind stopped them. Tank was astonished again when three unarmed troopers came to a halt next to Luke. "We'd like to join your academy."

Luke peered at them, clearly hesitant and suspicious in spite of the seeming openness of the troopers. "Any hidden blasters in your boots?"

Each of the three troopers reached down to pull a wicked looking palm blaster from their right boot. They handed the weapons to Wilton. "No."

Did all the stormtroopers on this ship carry extra blasters in their boots? _This must be a new uniform directive,_ Tank said to himself. _If I'd known, I would have warned Luke._

Although it looked like Luke was doing just fine on his own. He was eerily calm now as he held his arms wide. "Then for what it's worth, welcome to the shuttle newly named _Future's Hope._ "

Solo instantly grimaced. " _Future's Hope?!_ What kind of fool name for a ship is that?"

Luke groaned. "Let me guess, you'd rather name it _The Millenium Future,_ right?"

Wedge plowed through the stalled group to enter the shuttle. "How about _The Falcon's Hope?_ "

Luke rolled his eyes. "It's about a hopefully bright future for the galaxy, so naming it after _The Falcon_ doesn't make much sense."

"Always the critic," Solo grumbled, following Wedge.

One of the new trooper recruits said, "That grumpy one must be General Solo."

"I heard that!" floated back down the ramp to the others.

"And I'm Luke, and this is Tank, and Lando, and… Captain Wilton, I don't know your first name."

"It's Jalen. And it's my shuttle, so I should get to name it."

"A shuttle's kind of small for an academy, isn't it?" Lando argued. "Shouldn't we get a bigger ship? Or a bigger place?"

"What about the Yavin IV base?" Wedge suggested from just inside the shuttle. "The Empire didn't destroy it, did they?"

"I can't remember," Luke said. "That was so many bases ago." He glanced up at the four Imperials facing him. "Does the Empire happen to have another Death Star just hanging around?"

The three troopers uncomfortably looked at each other, at Tank, then one of them blurted, "No. But we have a Star Destroyer right here."

Startled, the rescuers all drew back as one as if to ask why they hadn't thought of such an obvious thing before now.

"You've got to be kidding me," Solo muttered from the cockpit area. "I told Leia this mission was going to be an easy one. Should have kept my mouth shut."

Solo went on muttering when all of a sudden, Tank blurted, "If we plan to commandeer this Star Destroyer, I want some clothes first. I don't want to steal a ship in nothing but my underwear!"

The End


End file.
